Breaking the First Seal
by Kirigiya The Wanderer
Summary: "And it is written, that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. When he breaks, so shall it break."


**Hello, everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long since I've been on to update the Rise of a God, but I've had some major writers' block, and the next chapter is giving me problems. I figured working on something else would help clear it up, and this is the result. Set between seasons 3 and 4, I hope you enjoy! Oh, and I know it's a bit short, and I apologize for that. This just came to me really quickly, and I had to get it out there. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.**

A young man, probably in his mid to late twenties, lay strapped to a wooden table. The room he was in was dark, lit only by an eerie red glow that seemed to emanate from the floor and walls themselves, making his bloody appearence all the more haunting. Screams echoed off the walls, uttered by himself, and other residents of where he was being held. A short, balding man with a dark countenance stood hunched over him, probing his mangled stomach with various objects, smirking as the man screamed again.

"Alright, Dean," the man began, plunging a knife into Dean's exposed organs, much to Dean's pain. "It's about time for my offer again. You can get off the table, no more torture, I promise. All you have to do is torture the other souls here." he said in what seemed a gentle and kind tone of voice, though the malice and glee hidden in his pitch black eyes conveyed anything but.

"Never, you black eyed son of a-" his cursing was cut off as the knife currently lodged in his torso was twisted violently.

Dean winced as the knife continued its motions, blood gushing from his wounds. He wouldn't give up, he couldn't!

"Are you sure about that Dean?" the man drawled. "You seem to be in a fair amount of pain."

"Shut up, Alistair! Go screw yourself!" Dean snapped, eyes screwed closed in a vain attempt to block out the pain.

"Now, now Dean, that isn't any way to talk to me. I think I should teach you some manners."

How long he lay there under the knife, Dean didn't know. He couldn't think. It felt as if he had been down there another thirty years, all of that torture rolled into one all-around hellish experience.

"Please, stop," Dean said faintly, eyes darting behind his closed eyelids.

"Sorry Dean, I'll only stop if you agree to my conditions," Alistair's voice sang.

No, he couldn't, he wouldn't! Still, he found his resolve slipping away slowly as Alistair continued his grisly work. He'd held out for so long, he couldn't break now. But relief sounded so sweet to Dean right now, and he was so, so tired.

"Stop... stop, I'll do it," Dean said quietly, partly because he barely had any strength left, partly because he was ashamed of his words.

"What was that, Dean?" Alistair questioned, leaning in towards Dean until their noses almost touched. "What did you say?"

"Stop, I agree to your conditions," Dean managed to say, hating himself more every second.

"Promise?" Alistair asked, giddy.

Dean could only nod in response. Immediately Dean felt all of his pain vanish. Hesitantly he opened his eyes, spotting Alistair grinning at him widely. Somehow, he was standing, fully clothed, not a single scratch on him. He quickly inspected himself, almost not believing that the constant pain of Hell was gone from him.

Alistair began to clap slowly.

"Bravo Dean, bravo! You were a tough one to crack, I'll admit that, but everyone has their breaking point, I knew I'd get to you eventually."

Dean stared at his feet in shame; he'd given in, given up. He wasn't strong, he was weak! He deserved to lay on that rack for the rest of eternity!

_'Sammy, I'm sorry. Please forgive me.'_

"Alright Dean, time to get to work," Alistair said, rubbing his hands together maliciously.

Dean looked up in shock; he'd almost forgotten his end of the deal. He felt his stomach churn at what he would have to do for the rest of eternity. Torture souls, just like Alistair had done to him. Honestly, he wasn't very sure who had the better deal at this point.

He was broken out of his musings as Alistair waved his hands towards a door, which opened, reavealing a man in a suit holding a woman in his arms. As the man strode into the room, Dean inspected the woman. Her clothes were bloody, as was the rest of her, blood oozing from multiple wounds, her face bruised and almost grotesque.

"Here comes customer number one!" Alistair sang, obviously excited.

As the man laid the woman down and left the room, she seemed to perk up, looking around the room. Her eyes immediately focused on Dean.

"Dean?" She asked, casting frightened glances between him and Alistair.

How did this woman know him? It took a moment for it to register, but he found he actually knew this woman. His stomach churned and he almost vomited as he realized her identity.

"Bella," he said gruffly in greeting, not meeting her eyes.

"What's going on? Are you- are you going to torture me?" she asked, sounding desperate, and close to crying.

"No, Bella, I won't-"

"Don't say things you know aren't true, Dean," Alistair interrupted; the man had been so quiet, Dean had forgotten he was still in the room. "I specifically requested she be your first subject, seeing as how you knew her and all."

Alistair approached him, handing him a curved dagger stained with blood.

"You know what to do Dean, I've done it to you many times," he seemed anxious to get on with the torture, which Dean found slightly odd.

Still, he couldn't torture Bella! Sure, he wasn't her number one fan, but he didn't want to be the one to do this, he couldn't.

"I won't," Dean said resolutely.

"You won't?" Alistair echoed. "You know this means you're going back on the rack, don't you?" he said, gesturing to said rack.

Dean glanced fearfully between Alistair and the rack. No, he couldn't go back there. The pain, the pain! He could almost feel it again, the knives digging into his flesh, Alistair taunting him, those evil black eyes-!

"You seem hesitant, Dean," Alistair said gleefully.

Without a word, Dean reached for the knife. He couldn't bear to look at either Bella or Alistair as he was handed the weapon.

"Dean, please," Bella begged, sobbing.

"Bella, I'm sorry," Dean said, driving the blade downwards.

The events that followed would be etched into his mind for the rest of his life.

**And that's a wrap! A bit darker than most of my fics, probably not going to go this dark again in the future. Anyways, I hope you guys like it, and I hope this is a good enough apology for my lack of Rise of a God updates. I'll get it done as soon as I can, promise****! Until next time!**


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